Moore to Lose

by Julie A. Richman

  Wow, when did I become this mature, Mia wondered as the twentieth century rapidly drew to a close.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Mia gazed around Charles’ brownstone in awe. Seth Shapiro had set a scene for the evening that was both magical and ethereal. Charles was still out, checking on his guys all over town and Mia thought, “He is going to flip when he sees this.”

  Long strips of sheer white fabric billowed from the ceiling in arcs and then draped majestically to the floor. Small tables covered in white starched linens dotted the rooms. Each table sported a brass candlestick lamp with a colorful beaded and silk rope shade. Potted palms and white pillar candles filled out the ambience.

  Mia stood there speechless. “Casablanca,” was all she could say.

  “You are correct, BBC.” Seth appeared out of nowhere. He was wearing a white dinner jacket with black tuxedo pants and a black silk bowtie.

  “Hello, Rick.”

  “Ilsa,” he returned, “Of all the New Year’s Eve parties, in all the brownstones, in all of New York and she walks into mine.”

  Mia laughed, “I am impressed. You have created a magical place. It really feels like Rick’s Café Americain.” It was then that Mia noticed the 1940’s Big Band music playing in the background. “This is really romantic, Seth.”

  The guests were a combination of Mia and Seth’s friends and business associates and Charles’ friends and associates. Charles too was dressed in a dinner jacket as if he’d just stepped out of the Silver Screen.

  “You look debonair,” she greeted him.

  “And you look gorgeous.”

  “It’s just the atmosphere.” Mia laughed, though she walked around greeting people and feeling like she was Ingrid Bergman playing Ilsa Lund for the night.

  The crowds meshed beautifully and it was hard to tell whose friends were whose.

  Working the room was exhausting as Mia spent time catching up with friends and colleagues and meeting Charles’ friends. Stepping out into the small yard to get some fresh air and take a break from hostessing, Mia breathed in the cold winter air and took a sip from the old fashioned Champagne Coupes that Seth had procured for the evening. The Coupes were broad bowled crystal glasses straight out of the thirties and forties and Mia wondered where Seth had found them. As she stepped further into the small, walled yard, her thought was that it still felt like it was going to snow.

  Mia closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Standing there with her eyes closed, she reveled in the relative silence and solitude. The day had been emotional, laden with ghosts, both real and perceived.

  She didn’t see him sitting on the bench against the concrete wall until she was just a few steps away. He was so still and quiet as he watched her.

  Mia jumped, spilling her champagne.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I get you a napkin or a towel?”

  “No. No. Stay there, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to intrude on you. I didn’t see you there.”

  “No intrusion. Would you like to sit?” And he moved down on the bench to make room for her.

  Mia sat down next to the man, “I just needed some fresh air to re-energize.”

  “You were really working the room,” he observed. He had a pleasant face. Nice looking actually, Mia thought. His light brown hair receding a little at the hairline. Even in the dark, Mia thought his light eyes looked kind.

  “Don’t kid yourself. Being a hostess is a tough job.”

  His smile was his best feature, Mia thought. It was genuine and sweet. “Sometimes being a guest is tough, too.”

  “I’m Mia Silver.”

  “Yes, I figured.”

  “You did?” Mia’s nose scrunched up with surprise.

  “Yes, Charles had mentioned he was co-hosting the party with his friend, Mia.”

  “And you are?” Mia was starting to get cold in the yard. The bench was freezing and it was going through the sheer fabric of her dress.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m Michael Portman.” He extended a hand to Mia and offered a solid handshake.

  “How do you know Charles?” Mia wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

  Michael removed his jacket and gently draped it over Mia’s small shoulders. Wow, a gentleman, Mia thought. Now this truly was a mythical beast.

  “We were roommates in college and fraternity brothers.”

  Mia nodded. “You haven’t been at any of the events.”

  “I just moved back to the states three months ago. I was overseas for the last three years.”

  “Really? How interesting. Where were you?”

  “I was based in London.”

  Mia smiled at him. “I love London. It reminds me of Manhattan in the sense that it is like small villages strung together.”

  Michael regarded Mia for a moment and smiled, “Spot on observation. That is exactly how I would describe it.”

  “Let’s go in. It’s freezing out here.” Mia stood and extended a hand to Michael. He took her hand and stood. Mia thought he must be close to six feet tall.

  Before they reached the back door, Mia released his hand.

  “BBC, it’s almost midnight.” Seth was on the other side of the door with Rory, Kami and her date.

  “Hey guys, this is Michael. He’s an old friend of Charles’.”

  “I see you’ve met.” Charles had an uncanny ability to silently appear out of nowhere.

  “Yeah, we were both ducking out of the party.” Mia laughed.

  “You two have a lot in common. You should talk,” and he quickly moved away.

  “Are we getting set up?” Michael had an amused look on his face. In the room’s light, Mia could see that Michael did have nice eyes. Very nice eyes. They were grey-blue and large, rimmed with dark lashes. Mia could picture her mom saying, “He’s got a sweet face, that one.”

  “I think we are.” Mia concurred. “Charles Sloan, Matchmaker, whoever would have thought.”

  Mia and Michael were still talking as the new millennium approached. At the stroke of midnight, Mia felt awkward as everyone began to kiss. As if sensing her extreme discomfort, Michael smiled at her, a smile that reached his kind eyes. He gently took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up. His kiss was just a soft brush of his lips on hers. Looking into his big eyes she could feel his need to connect as strongly as hers. As if he too had been adrift and in search of an elusive anchor for a very long time. Mia reached up and gently laid her hand on Michael’s cheek. She smiled up at him. This was a nice guy. She could feel it. Michael Portman was a man worth knowing.

  “Happy New Year, Mia.”

  She could hear the noisemakers and the fireworks but it all seemed far off in the distance. Michael and Mia were having a moment and as the new century began, so did the dream of hope. The music segued from “Auld Lang Syne” into “As Time Goes By”, keeping with the party’s Casablanca theme.

  “Happy New Year, Michael,” her hand was still on his cheek.

  “Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

  It had been a long time since Mia Silver had felt so special.

  New Year’s Day was nearing noon and Mia was still lounging in bed. She’d woken uncharacteristically early, but remained cocooned under her down blanket and kept dozing off to sleep.

  The ringing of her cell startled her out of a half dream state. She looked at the name on the display and smiled.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she could hear the surprising roughness of his morning voice. She liked the sound. “I have two questions for you.”

  “Shoot.” Mia stacked the pillows behind her and settled in.

  “Is it too early to call and is it too soon to call?”

  Laughing, “Yes and no.”

  “Ok, two more questions. Shall I let you get back to sleep and would you like to have brunch with me today?”

  “No and yes.”

  January 1, 2000 — what a difference a day makes, Mia mused as sh
e got out of bed to start a new day, a new year, a new decade and a new century. Could there be a more optimal time for new beginnings, she wondered. All the icky feelings and heightened energy of the day before had come and gone. It was as if it had been absorbed back into the universe, dissipated into the ether. Y2K had arrived, and as feared by techie geeks all over the globe, the electronic world had not come to a screeching halt. All was the same as yesterday, only better.

  As Mia stood in her closet deciding what to wear for her first official date with Michael Portman, it occurred to her that Charles Sloan had this all plotted out when he asked her to co-host his party. Set-up like a bowling pin. Shaking her head, she had to admit, “Well played, Mr. Sloan. Well played.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Walking through the Peter Blum Gallery, Mia was just not connecting to the paintings on the wall.

  “What do you think?” she asked Michael, who stood before a large canvas, his eyes roaming across the colors and images.

  “I don’t get it. Do you?” Turning to Mia as if he were hoping she’d have some concrete explanation.

  Shaking her head, “This is all a bit esoteric for me,” lowering her voice to a whisper, “and these people are really pretentious.”

  Michael laughed, “Can I twist your arm to blow this popsicle stand and head over to Balthazar?”

  “Let’s do it.” Mia didn’t need a second invitation to get the heck out of the art show opening and head to the brasserie for delicious French food. Balthazar was like being on a Paris cafe movie set.

  Heading down Wooster Street toward Spring Street, Michael reached for Mia’s hand. She looked up at him and smiled.

  Seated at a little bistro table for two with a platter of cheese and pâté and two ruby ports, Michael looked a little nervous as he posed, “So, I have a question for you.”

  “I like your questions.” Mia smiled at him and took a sip of her port.

  He looked down for a second, “I’m not sure how much you are going to like this one.”

  Mia put her port down. She could feel her stomach knotting as she wondered where he was going to go with this. “Ask away.” She attempted to be bold.

  “So, it’s been about a month. We see each other two to three times a week. Have I just been friend-zoned?”

  Mia was caught by surprise. Answering this correctly was really important. She really liked Michael. Was she wildly attracted to him? No. And that was something with which she was grappling. Michael was so different — he was low-key, interesting, intelligent and nice. She enjoyed his company and really looked forward to their time together. Did she have an overwhelming desire to rip off his clothes and fuck him till he couldn’t move? No.

  “Maybe a little bit,” she finally answered.

  “I don’t want to be in the friend-zone, Mia. I want to be lovers.” His gaze was so intense with those big grey-blue eyes that Mia felt as if he’d nailed her to her chair. “Give me something back here.”

  “I liked hearing you say that. It’s really pretty hot. I really have loved that we’ve gotten to know each other, Michael and now I’m a little fearful it will be weird after we have sex and then we won’t have this. I would miss this.”

  “Would you miss me?”

  “Oh God yes, of course I would.”

  “I want to be lovers, Mia.”

  Mia looked around the crowded bistro, as if searching for someone, leaving Michael with a perplexed look on his face. “Where the hell is that waiter, we need to get a check,” and she turned back to meet Michael with her devil grin only to find his sweet smile ready to greet hers.

  Michael was lounging across her couch, his suit jacket and tie finally off, when Mia returned with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and two glasses. She poured Michael a glass and one for herself and nestled in next to him with her legs tucked under her.

  “To becoming lovers,” she toasted.

  “To falling in love,” he toasted back.

  This is a man worth knowing, she thought, just as she’d thought on New Year’s Eve. This was a really good guy and this really good guy was seriously into her. She wondered if it was fear of getting hurt, fear of intimacy, fear of happiness or some other fucked up fear that was holding her back with him.

  Michael took her wineglass and put it on the table next to his and then pulled her into his lap. Taking her face in both his hands and looking into her eyes, “I think you’re going to find we’re surprisingly good together.” Mia smiled at his words, and didn’t verbalize the ones going through her head, “I hope you’re right.” This was the most nervous she’d been in a long time.

  With a smile that was captivating and eyes that sparkled with sincerity, Michael pushed the curls gently from Mia’s face. “I really like you.”

  “I really like you, too,” and she wasn’t lying. This man was great, she enjoyed him so very much, so what was it that was holding her back?

  Michael’s thumb gently traced Mia’s cheekbone and she closed her eyes, resting her face in the palm of his hand. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on the sensation his thumb left along her cheek as it trailed slowly down to her lips and softly across them.

  Mia opened her eyes to look at him and his sweetness just made her smile. “He’s too nice for me,” she thought.

  Cradling the back of her head in his palm with his fingers woven through her curls, Michael brought Mia’s lips to his. He surprised her immediately when he took her lower lip in his teeth and tugged on it, causing a moan to involuntarily escape.

  Damn, where did that come from, she wondered — both his painfully pleasurable move and her guttural reaction.

  He drew back and looked at her, “You like that, huh?”

  “I do. I like to bite and I like to be bitten.” Mia ran her hands down his neck to his shoulders and down his arms. He’s pretty muscular for a stock broker, she thought and that turned her on even more.

  “Tell me where you like to be bitten.” His teeth were grazing her jaw and his hands were softly on her neck.

  Mia could hardly breathe, she was so turned on. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were going to be surprisingly good together. Michael Portman, with his sweet, sensual style was rocking her world and they hadn’t even done anything yet.

  “I like to be bitten on my neck.” Mia could barely get the words out.

  Taking a handful of Mia’s curls, Michael pulled Mia’s head to the right, fully exposing the left side of her neck. He gently ran his nose and lips up the sensitive skin as if he were getting her feel and her scent. His teeth then lightly skimmed along the same sensitive path. She started to moan with pleasure and he tugged her hair a little harder, his teeth scraped her skin with more force as he bit her neck.

  “Harder,” she managed to whisper.

  “I’ll bruise you if I do it any harder.”

  She pulled away from him panting and repositioned herself in his lap so that she was straddling him. She wanted to feel him. Taking Michael’s face in both hands, she looked deeply into his eyes, still panting, “I want you to do it a lot harder.”

  Michael smiled and yanked her hair, this time hard and the pain caused her to groan. His teeth sank into the nook between her shoulder and neck where he sucked and bit Mia’s soft flesh.

  The more she groaned, the harder she could feel his cock become. With her fingers in his soft, fine hair, Mia pressed him into her neck. “Oh God yes, just like that,” and he sank his teeth into another spot on her neck.

  When he pulled away, Mia looked at him, smiling, “Oh my God, Michael.”

  “Am I out of the friend-zone?” He kidded.

  Mia nodded and leaned in for a kiss. “Permanently.”

  Shifting Mia off of him, Michael stood up. He reached a hand out to her, “Let’s become lovers.”

  “Let’s.” Mia took his hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom.

  Feeling the ache through her entire body, she wanted to push him down on her bed and take what she needed,
yet for some reason she felt shy and unsure — like there was a lot on the line and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

  They lay down on her bed, fully clothed, facing one another. Playing with her hair and pulling her in for panty wetting kisses, Michael Portman was taking his sweet time. His hands explored her face, her arms, the curve down to her waist and by the time he softly ran his hand over her ass, Mia was a four-alarm fire.

  And then it occurred to her, as if an epiphany, that Michael’s slow seduction was not just fucking, he was actually making love to her. She felt her eyes fill up before she could stop them.

  Michael’s look immediately changed to concern and his hand quickly moved off her ass and to her cheek. “What’s going on?” His voice was husky.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” Mia tried hard to make her eyes dry out.

  “Please talk to me,” he implored, gently stroking her hair.

  She nodded and he wiped away her tears with his thumb, softly replacing each tear with a kiss. Who is this man? Mia thought.

  “You were just being so sweet and tender and it’s just been a very long time since I was in a relationship where someone has been like that with me,” and she proceeded to tell Michael a part of her story, her ill-fated introduction to sex and recent work in therapy being the focus of what she imparted. If this relationship was going to go anywhere, he needed to know her secrets, know where the demons resided — a mistake she had made in her relationship with Tom by never telling him. Taking ownership of that was realization of how the hard work in therapy was truly paying off.

  When she was done, he softly kissed her. “Thank you for feeling close enough to me to share that. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

  Mia just nodded. Please don’t see me as damaged were the words she silently screamed in her head. She knew that was the chance she just took.